What Hurts the Most
by happy29
Summary: What happens to the real Ray Vecchio if the undercover Vecchio dies?
1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Fraser," Ray called enthusiastically from behind his desk as Fraser entered the bullpen at the end of Ray's shift. "You ready to grab that bite to eat I promised you?"

Fraser approached Ray's desk and was bewildered he could actually see the metal top. "You cleaned your desk?" Fraser trailed his fingertips across the cool surface.

Ray shrugged his shoulders as if it was nothing. "Just put together a few files and _actually_ filed them today. Why? You saying I'm a slob?" he asked, slightly amused at the bewildered expression on his partner's face.

"No. I just haven't seen the top of your desk since…" Fraser's expression changed to one of sadness. He lowered his voice and forced a small smile, finally making eye contact with Ray. "Not since you took over for Ray Vecchio." Fraser snuffled like he was coming down with a cold, then swiped a knuckle across his eyebrow. Ray knew better. "I'm sorry. Yes, I'm ready."

Ray understood Fraser's shift in mood. Every once in a while, something would trigger a memory of the Mountie's previous partner, Ray Vecchio. You don't just forget about someone because they up and disappeared on you. Memories and friendships don't work that way. Ray came around the desk and rested a hand on Fraser's shoulder. "It's okay, Frase."

Fraser motioned towards the swinging doors as Ray grabbed his leather jacket off the coat rack in the corner. "Shall we?"

* * *

The diner was unusually quiet for a Thursday evening. Ray gathered it was because of the Bears home football game. Fraser seemed distracted with his memories of Vecchio and enjoyed the quiet setting for a change. He wasn't feeling well, emotionally or physically and excused himself to the restroom to collect himself while Ray went to the counter to pay for their meal.

Fraser was rinsing his face with cool water when he heard the first shot. His head snapped up, eyes glued to the closed door. There was a second and then a third before Fraser had time to react. The two shots sounded different. Two different guns, two shooters.

Fraser's heart skipped a beat.

 _Ray._

He flung the restroom door open with all his might, grabbed hold of the corner of the partition wall and hurled himself around it without any regard for his own safety. He needed to get to Ray, to make sure he was…

Fraser stopped breathing when he saw the scene before him. The shooter had his gun trained on the waitress behind the counter. On the ground was his partner, his friend, _his… his Ray._

A shot rang out and tore through Fraser's upper right shoulder, knocking him off balance. He fell into the booth beside him before he could make any advancement to check on Ray's well-being. Fraser struggled against the confined space of the table and booth. When he managed to pull himself free he was hit with a second bullet. This one grazed his left temple. He felt the sting of the bullet as it sliced through his skin, leaving a burnt trail behind. Fraser stumbled backwards again. His legs buckled underneath him. The last thing he saw before the world went black around him was the shooter fire another bullet into his friend and then turn and flee into the night.

* * *

Fraser awoke to a throbbing headache. The constant blip of a heart monitor beside the bed told him the nightmare he was having while asleep was in fact real. He had been shot. Ray had been shot.

"Ray," he mumbled voice harsh and scratchy from having a tube down his throat during surgery to have the bullet removed from his shoulder. He managed to open his eyes into thin slits, but closed them abruptly when the brightness of the room lights overloaded his senses. He had no idea of the time or the day. Just searing pain radiating from his shoulder and temple.

"He's awake," someone called from a nearby chair. "Francesca, get the nurse."

Fraser felt a hand settle on top of his. The weight wasn't familiar, the touch wasn't the same as…

"Ray," he called again.

"Fraser," Lieutenant Welsh's voice broke through the chitter-chatter of several people.

Fraser squeezed his eyes shut against the bright lights once more.

"Someone kill the lights," Welsh barked a command. There was the sound of skin being slapped and a quiet apology. "Sorry. Someone get the lights, please." Fraser could hear footsteps moving away. In an instant, the room lighting was bearable and Fraser could open his eyes without being blinded.

"Ray," he tried once more. He glanced to his right. Inspector Thatcher had one hand on the bed railing, the other covering his. To his left was Lieutenant Welsh, hands shoved deep in his front pockets. Francesca Vecchio had resumed her position at the foot of the bed. Ray was not among them. He started to panic, the heart monitor accurately displaying his stress level.

"Fraser," Inspector Thatcher began quietly. She gave Fraser's hand a gentle squeeze. "Detective Vecchio isn't here."

At the end of the bed, Francesca swiped at a falling tear.

"Where is he?" Fraser questioned as he tried to sit up, tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed. He was too weak to do either.

Frannie moved beside Thatcher and placed a trembling hand on his thigh. "I'm so sorry, Frase," she sobbed out.

Fraser's eyes darted between the three occupants of the room. They were all brimming with tears, some falling, some unshed.

"I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you, Constable, but Ray didn't make it." Welsh's voice was flat like he had already expelled all of his emotions.

"No!" Fraser heard himself scream. It couldn't be true. Ray was the other half of his duet. Ray was the red ship to his green ship. _Ray was his…_

"The doctor's did everything they could," Thatcher spoke softly and held his trembling hand.

"I have to see him." Fraser tried to sit up again.

With a firm hand, Welsh pinned him to the bed. "It's too late."

Fraser stared at the three people before him, horrified. "Too late?" his voice quivered as he spoke.

The three exchanged nervous glances before Francesca spoke up. "His funeral was three days ago, Frase." She dotted her eyes with a tissue before continuing. "You were pretty bad for a while there. We thought we were going to lose you as well."

Fraser took a moment to take stock in his own injuries. He remembered now, he had been shot twice. "His parents…" Fraser croaked. "His parents wanted him buried in their family plot. We can take you there when you are well enough to leave."

Fraser sank his head back into his pillow and closed his eyes tightly, blocking out the world around him. And then he began to sob. His world had just been shattered.

Francesca moved to Fraser's head and wrapped her arms around him and held him as he cried. Welsh and Thatcher silently excused themselves.

* * *

 _~*~ Two weeks later ~*~_

Frannie held Fraser's hand tightly as they walked silently towards Ray's grave. Fraser had distanced himself from everyone since they had released him from the hospital. He was mourning the loss of his partner, his friend, his…

"There's something we haven't told you yet, Fraser," Frannie broke the silence when the stopped at the freshly unearthed dirt. Fraser didn't respond, just stared numbly ahead. "Ray was undercover as my brother."

Fraser's breathing stopped. In the midst of this tragedy and his loss of Ray, he had forgotten about his other Ray. If Ray Kowalski was undercover as Ray Vecchio and dies, what happens now with the real Ray Vecchio?

"Jesus, Francesca…" Fraser's voice was rough and nasally. He had spent the better part of the last two weeks an emotional wreck. "What happens to him now?" Fraser could feel Frannie's hand trembling in his.

"When he's done with his assignment," her voice was small. "He can't come home. He's officially dead." She dotted her eyes with a tissue. "Welsh says he will be given a new identity and will be placed in some sort of witness protection." She let out a bitter chuckle. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Nobody thought of what might happen if Kowalski died."

A strong hand settled on Fraser's shoulder. It was Lieutenant Welsh accompanied by Inspector Thatcher. "We're very sorry, Fraser, but it has to be this way. Vecchio can't come back."

"I'll never get to see him again? I'll never get to see either one of them again?" Fraser's eyes filled with tears as his voice and body quivered.

"None of us will." Frannie squeezed his hand and began to sob as well.

"I need to go home," Fraser stated as he stared at the temporary headstone of his partner.

"We figured as much," Welsh said and Thatcher nodded in agreement. "I'll drive you to the airport."

* * *

Fraser wasn't sure how he made it from Chicago to his home with no memory of the journey. He stood on the porch of his cabin a small duffle slung over his good shoulder and stared blankly at the door before him. _He was home._ He couldn't bear the thought of ever returning to Chicago without either of his Ray's there. He slid the key into the lock, twisted the door knob and stepped into his own little world. He looked around and felt empty. Frannie had kept Diefenbaker with the promise to bring up in a week. Fraser had reluctantly agreed. He was still recovering physically from his injuries. He wasn't sure the emotional damage he had endured with the loss of his Ray's would ever heal.

Fraser had discovered in the days following the incident at the diner while he was still recovering in the hospital, two separate funerals were held in the city. One grave contained an empty coffin. Ray Vecchio. A life still to live, but no longer as his own. The city mourned the loss of an upstanding officer of the law. A fine detective with a high arrest rate. They knew no different. A mother and family mourned the loss of a son they knew was still alive, yet would no longer get to see.

Across town, the funeral was smaller. Two parents who would never get to see their only son again, killed while trying to protect another man's life. Two Lieutenants, both who lost a good man.

Fraser never got a chance to say goodbye to either man.

Fraser dropped his duffel to the floor. The thud echoed throughout the empty cabin. Empty like Fraser felt. He made his way to the couch and settled into its embrace. He toed off his shoes and carefully lay down. He pulled his Grandmother's quilt from the back of the couch, covered himself until only the tip of his nose was exposed and cried himself to sleep.

He wasn't sure how long he was asleep. He didn't care. The world around him stopped spinning the moment Ray was taken from him. Fraser flipped an eye open. He didn't remember starting a fire before he lay down. He closed his eye and basked in the warmth of the flames. When he opened them again, movement from across the room caught his attention. He forced himself into a sitting position and stared in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, Ben, it had to be this way." Before him sat Ray Kowalski.

"You're dead," Fraser managed to say as shock still played on his features.

Ray's lip was quivering as a tear slipped from his eye. "It all happened so quickly," he began to explain. "There wasn't time to fill you in. Vecchio's life depended on an instant decision. I didn't like it one bit, but I didn't have much choice in the matter."

Fraser sat in silence. What did you say to a ghost?

"You're confused, hurt, angry." Ray locked eyes with his partner, his friend, _his…_ "There wasn't time to tell you the plan. Welsh got word that Zuko took a hit out on Vecchio. So we had to make Vecchio 'die' before anyone could find out that Vecchio wasn't really Vecchio."

"You're not dead?" A fresh tear slipped down Fraser's cheek.

"Not even a little." Ray gave him a small smile and moved to the floor in front of the couch. He reached out and took Fraser's trembling hands in his own and held them tight.

"We had to make it look like Vecchio died before anyone could actually attempt the hit on his life." Ray moved from the floor to the couch. "The diner was a set up. It was empty for a reason, not because of the Bears game." Ray looked away. "It wasn't supposed to go south like it did. You weren't supposed to get hurt." Ray turned and touched the bandage above Fraser's eye tenderly. "The bullets were all supposed to be blanks. The guy was supposed to fire two shots at me, I returned two shots of my own. I don't know what happened. I was playing dead when I heard the rest of the shots. You were supposed to have been locked in the bathroom. They whisked me out of there before I knew how you were. Someone drove me all the way up here and dropped me off, told me to stay put until I heard from the Feds." Ray wiped the falling tear away from Fraser's cheek.

Fraser leaned into the tender touch, his heart beating wildly in his chest for the first time in weeks. "I thought you were dead."

Ray shook his head and let his own tears fall. "I'm so sorry."

"Your parents…" Fraser sobbed out as Ray held his face between his palms, their foreheads touching.

"They know the truth."

"What about Ray?"

"He gets a new life in Florida running a bowling alley after he's done with the mob. The Vecchio family will be retiring there as well."

"And you?" Fraser questioned.

"I get to stay with you." Ray leaned forward and brushed his lips against Fraser's.

 _His partner, his friend, his lover._


	2. Kowalski POV

"Vecchio!" Welsh bellowed from his office door in the general direction of my desk. "My office. _Now."_ He looked angrier than the Ice Queen when Turnbull tries to be helpful.

I nodded my head quickly to show that I had heard him and he disappeared back into his office with a thunderous slam of the door. The windows to his office rattled and I almost dropped the phone receiver that was pressed to my left ear when a framed picture fell off the wall. Fraser and I hadn't seen much of each other this week due to our conflicting schedules and I was trying to make some dinner plans with him. We had both been busy with our own jobs to do much liaising this week, something I'm certain the Ice Queen had done on purpose. She hadn't been too keen on the idea of sharing Constable Fraser with the Chicago Police Department lately. ' _Canada has its own problems_ ,' she kept telling Welsh when I would ask if Fraser could help us out on some cases.

"Frase," I said into the receiver. "I'm gonna have to call you back. Welsh is hollering for me." I made my apologies to my partner and friend and headed into the Lion's Den. Welsh was looking kinda scary today and wasn't radiating any good vibes in my direction. He motioned for me to sit down before I could even open my mouth. Never a good sign in my book. Sorta felt like I was being called into the principal's office when I was in junior high. I apprehensively took a seat in front of his desk and tried to change the mood by casually dropping my left ankle on top of my right knee. I drummed my fingers on my jean clad thighs waiting for Welsh to explain what had him in such a foul mood. I didn't manage to hide the nervous bounce in my foot, though. Something was up.

Welsh let out a long frustrated sigh. He cracked his knuckles before taking a seat in his rolling leather chair. "We have a big problem," he declared after swallowing a gulp of the nasty police station java.

"What's up?" I ask as I drop my foot to the floor and lean forward, forearms resting on my thighs.

"Vecchio." Welsh grunted.

"Yeah?" I made a face unsure if he was about to ask a question or if he was...

"Not _you_ 'Vecchio'… _Vecchio_ 'Vecchio'," Welsh cut me off before I continue.

"What about him?" My heart skipped a beat. It had been so long since anyone had actually referred to the man himself.

Welsh scrubbed a meaty hand down his face. For the first time, I noticed the pinky ring he wore. He looked exhausted, old or maybe he was just angry. Sometimes with Welsh you could never tell. "We need to make him disappear."

I scrunched up my face in confusion. "Isn't he already undercover? How much more _disappeared_ can you get?"

Welsh's face went blank as if I was speaking a foreign language. "We need to make _you_ disappear since you're pretending to be Vecchio."

"What?" My heart rate was speeding up again. I was starting to like it here, just starting to find my groove. Dammit, I wasn't ready to leave. "Why?"

"Zuko placed a hit on Vecchio's head." Welsh folded his hands around his coffee cup and just stared at me waiting for the shoe to drop.

I was still stuck on having to leave. Having to leave Fraser behind, my partner, my friend, _my…_ that wasn't anyone's business but _ours_.

"We can't let anyone know that 'Vecchio' isn't 'Vecchio' anymore or the real 'Vecchio' in Vegas _will_ end up dead." He brought his coffee cup to his lips, paused before he took a drink. "We have to kill you off tonight. It's the only way to keep the real Vecchio safe."

"What about…" 'What about _me_?' I wanted to scream. What about _my_ life? "My parents will think I'm dead. Fraser will think I'm dead…"

"It's the only way. Zuko's men work fast. We have to do it today, make sure he's killed off before anyone can attempt the hit themselves. I'll make sure your parents know the truth. But there's no time to fill Fraser in. It has to be believable. I'm sorry, Ray."

I didn't like the idea of leaving Fraser out of the loop. He's a good actor. Surely he could follow a script like this. But to just make me disappear to save Vecchio's backside… I was throwing up inside. "What's the plan?" I tried to sound calm. Whether or not Welsh bought it, I'm not sure. "Frase and I were going to have dinner tonight at the diner by my apartment building."

"We can do it there. I'll get it cleared out, put cops in place of the workers. Set it up to have someone rob the place."

I shook my head. "That will never work. Fraser will jump in and get involved."

Welsh pulled a vile of something out of his desk drawer and held it up in the air. "Not if he's otherwise disposed of and out of the way."

"You want me to poison him?" I asked in disbelief.

"A few drops in drink should do the trick. It will just make him woozy. You suggest he go splash some water on his face while you pay the bill and that's when it will all go down."

"He's going to hear shots and come running. You know him."

"We'll make sure he's locked in the bathroom."

"Seriously? You're going to lock him in the bathroom? He'll wonder why the diner's empty in the first place."

Welsh wasn't going to let me out of this one. I had to go through with it and it had to be today. "It's a Bear's home game. Just tell him everyone stayed in to watch the game."

I shook my head and sighed out loud. "God, he's going to hate me when he finds out the truth."

Welsh's eyes went wide as saucers and he shook a finger in the air. "No, he can't know the truth. You can't say a word to him."

I went silent as it all sunk in. "I can't do that to him. I…" _'I can't do that to us.'_ "He's my partner, my friend…" I sank back into the chair. "Please, there has to be another way. You're asking a lot of me here. You're asking a lot of him."

"Ray, Zuko wants Vecchio dead. Everyone that works for Zuko knows what he looks like. If it gets out that someone is in place of Vecchio, Zuko won't stop until he uncovers every rock on this planet to find him. We need to make it look like he's already dead. Since you're the one they picked to cover him, that means you get to do the dying… so to speak. We'll post his picture in the obituary and no one will be the wiser. After he's done in Vegas… he gets a new life."

"So what if it screws up _my_ life?"

"You get a new life as well. And the real Ray Vecchio will be safe."

"I get to go back to being me?"

Welsh scrunched up his face. "Not exactly. We can't have you hanging around either, because anyone that knew you as Vecchio, will think, 'Wait… something's up. I thought that guy died.' It could get messy and still screw up Vecchio's cover. So you both have to disappear."

 _Fanfuckingtastic!_ That totally fucks up what Fraser and I have going. That partnership, that duet. Something that special only comes along once in a lifetime. Except no one knows about the two of us.

Welsh shoved the little vile across his desk in my direction. I stare at it before I take it, secretly vowing that this isn't going to be the end. One day Fraser will know the truth.

"Go home, pack a few things and then come back here and meet Fraser like it's any other day." Welsh stood up and I followed. He shoved his hand forward and I shook it. "It's going to be okay. I promise. Trust me on this one."

I didn't believe him. My heart was aching because in the next few hours, I was going to have to say goodbye to someone I… it doesn't matter because I don't even really get to say goodbye. I just get to pretend that I die while he's locked in a bathroom freaking out. Yeah… it's all gonna be okay. _What the fuck ever_.

"Ray," he called my name patiently.

"Fine. I'll do it." Like I had a choice in the matter.

* * *

My apartment door slammed behind me, closing out the world. Where the hell was I going? I did as I was told and packed a bag with some necessities. Then I dumped it out on my bed and grabbed the suitcase out of my closet. If I was going somewhere too, I wanted more than a few necessities. I wanted my stuff. I wanted Fraser's stuff. But mostly, I wanted _our_ stuff. One way or another, I was going to make sure I saw him again. Even if it meant _I_ had to uncover every rock on this planet. The Feds better not plan on sticking me with Vecchio because I may kill him myself for forcing me out of both our lives.

I scan my apartment one last time. I drop my suitcase to the floor and go unplug my chili pepper lights. They were coming with me. One more glance around the apartment and I see Fraser's reading glasses. I snag them and the book he had been reading, as well as both our coffee mugs. I carefully shoved the treasured items into my suitcase. Goodbye life.

* * *

Clearing off my desk kinda seemed like a task I needed to do in order to keep my mind from wandering to other places. In a few hours, Vecchio would be officially dead and by me cleaning up my desk, it's going to save someone else from having to clear out my case files. Because the way it was being set up, I wasn't coming back. Welsh is pacing inside his office, probably waiting for Fraser to get his ass to the station. Leave it to the Ice Queen to keep him longer. At least I won't have to deal with her anymore.

I'm pretty sure I drank a gallon of coffee waiting for Fraser to arrive and I can tell you that hasn't helped my raging nerves one bit. I finally see him out of the corner of my eye. I was expecting to see him in his uniform, but instead he was dressed down in jeans, a checkered flannel that brought out the blue in his eyes and his leather jacket. My heart skipped a beat. This was going to be the hardest day of my life. I tried to act as casual as I could without giving anything away. The clean desk threw him for a loop and I wasn't expecting him to become the emotional one. But I got it. In the back of my head, I think he knew something was amiss.

The silence in the car on the way to the diner about drove me crazy. I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him until I ran out of air. I wanted to desperately fuck him one last time in the back seat. And then I wanted to make love to him. It was killing me inside and I gripped the steering wheel even tighter as I pulled into the parking space. With one last glance, I wanted to tell him what was going on but knew I couldn't. Welsh's plan had better work.

He was quiet and I knew his mind was thinking about Vecchio. Any other day I wouldn't have cared, but today was the last time I would get to see him. I reached out and took his hand in mine, rubbed my thumb across his knuckles. I was at a loss for words. "Hey," I finally managed to say. "It's gonna be okay." I felt like I was lying to him, just like I'm sure Welsh was lying to me.

He looked away and swiped at a falling tear. I took that opportunity to put a few drops of Welsh's concoction in his water. I immediately hated myself. Our food arrived, we talked about how empty the diner was and then he started to look ill. I took a deep breath because I knew what was coming.

"Go splash some water on your face, Ben, and I'll take care of the bill. Then we'll head home." Nobody knew that either. Fraser had been staying over for a while now, which made this whole thing suck even more. He got up and made his way to the bathroom. When I saw the door close, I motioned towards the guy at the counter.

Game on.

Everything happened so fast. The robber came barreling in through the front door and demanded money from the cashier. Even with knowing it was all a set-up, my heart was still racing in my chest. Both our guns had blanks in them so nobody would accidently get hurt. He was to fire two shots at me. I was to return two of my own. Fraser was supposed to be locked in the bathroom.

That was the plan. Plans have a funny way of heading south really quick. I was on the floor playing dead, fake blood pooling on the floor around me. I hear commotion from the back of the diner. Fraser wasn't locked in the bathroom like Welsh had said. He saw what was happening; saw what had happened to me. There I was lying on the floor covered in blood. I can't even imagine the horror that was running through his mind and body. Thank God he didn't carry a gun or the fake robber would be dead.

I heard a shot and almost sprang up off the floor when I heard a thud and a scream come from Ben. Somehow a real bullet had gotten mixed in with the blanks. I don't know what happened because within seconds a second shot rang out. The shooter was a rookie cop from another precinct. I don't know if he panicked, when Fraser came charging out of the bathroom or what but he had enough sense to fire his last shot wide. From the back of the diner, I'm sure to Fraser it looked like he had just finished me off. I could feel the dirt from the wood flooring pelt me in the face. I squeezed my eyes tight as the ringing in my ears grew louder from the shot that ricocheted off the floor. The bell above the door sounded and he was gone. Bastard better not go too far.

Someone came in and pressed a hand into my shoulder, told me to stay still and to be quiet. Then I heard a real call for an ambulance. That wasn't part of the plan. I tried to sit up to see what was happening with Fraser, but there was too much commotion, too many hands holding me down. Then before I knew it, I was being strapped to a board and wheeled off into my own waiting ambulance. My eyes flashed open once the doors closed and the bus sped away, sirens and lights blaring. I couldn't sit up because they still had me strapped down. Probably a good thing because, I would have found a way to get out of the ambulance and made my way back to make sure Fraser was okay.

Someone was cursing into a radio and I matched it with my own words for someone to let me up.

"Please," I begged them. "I need to make sure he's okay."

There must have been a real paramedic on board because something sharp pricked my upper arm and the world around me faded to black.

* * *

When I finally came to, I was in a cabin, surrounded by Federal agents. I glanced around taking in my surroundings. I had no idea where they had taken me, had no idea how long I had been forcibly passed out. I looked over one of the agent's shoulder out the window and all I could see was wilderness. Where the hell was I?

"Ray," I heard my name. Welsh's gruff voice finally registered in my head.

"What happened?" I managed to croak out. It felt like I had been asleep for days. The world might as well have stopped if Fraser was dead. I lifted my head off the pillow on the couch I was laying on and sat up, pushed the quilt that covered me to the side. The room spun and I clenched my eyes shut hoping it would stop. Someone forced a bottle of water in my hand and told me to take a drink.

When I opened my eyes again, Welsh was kneeling on the floor in front of me. "He's going to be okay." He glanced over the back of the couch to the agents and they all moved to another room. "I don't know what happened with the bullets. They were all supposed to be blanks."

"Fraser?" I almost sobbed his name. My last memory of him was him lying in his own pool of blood.

"He's going to be okay, Ray. Just needs a little time in the hospital to heal."

I shoved my fists into his chest and sent him reeling backwards onto the floor. "You said nobody was going to get hurt!" I screamed in his direction.

Welsh held up a hand to the agents as they swarmed into the room. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened." He slowly got his feet under him and stood up. "Here's the plan." His voice was far too calm.

I shot to my feet, hysterical. "I don't care about your fucking plan!" My knees buckled underneath me and I collapsed onto the couch. I dropped my head into my hands and pulled on my hair frustrated. Breathing was difficult, living was even harder. This isn't what I signed up for when I was asked to cover for Vecchio.

A heavy hand settled on my shoulder. "Ray," Welsh's voice was low and quiet. "Stay here for two weeks. Be patient, okay?"

"Then what?" my voice cracked.

Welsh stepped away from me and I looked up. He motioned around the room and it finally sank in where they had taken me. I was in Fraser's cabin. _His home._

"Give me two weeks to get him healthy to travel, then we'll make sure he comes home."

An agent stepped into the room and handed Welsh a packet which he then handed to me.

"To the rest of the world, you'll be Michael Hill. To Fraser, you'll be Ray Kowalski."

"I get to stay here?"

Welsh nodded. "Give me two weeks. He was pretty banged up not to mention extremely distraught after finding out we already had your funeral. It won't take much convincing for him to want to come home to gather his bearings. I don't expect him to want to return to Chicago." Welsh stepped forward as I looked through the packet I was given on my new life. "I have someone boxing up your apartment." He squatted down in front of me and dropped his voice again. "You two got pretty close didn't you?"

I drew my eyes up to meet his and gave a silent nod.

He squeezed my shoulder. "I told you to trust me," he smiled with a wink.

Welsh and the agents made their way towards the door and gave me my final instructions. Don't leave, just wait for Fraser.

* * *

That was the most difficult two weeks of my entire life. Every day was filled with a new anxiety on how Fraser was doing both physically and emotionally. I knew how I was handling things and I had the inside scoop. I couldn't fathom how he was coping. He had told he had lost everything. Hell, I had thought that as well. I spent the two weeks worrying, exploring the cabin, sleeping in his bed, just dreaming of him and me together again. Dreaming of kissing him and holding him and never letting go.

Then one afternoon, I heard an SUV pull up. I knew it had to be Fraser. I peeked out the window and saw him moving slowly towards the cabin. He looked horrible like the world had let him down. I didn't want to scare him first thing so I went and hid on the back porch. I figured that was the last place he would go. I could hear him shuffle into the living room, drop his bag to the floor and then he collapsed onto the couch. I stepped quietly into the kitchen and could see him pulling the quilt off the back of the couch and covering himself up. And then I heard the sobs. It broke my heart. He thought I was dead.

Once his sobs tapered off and I knew he was sound asleep, I started a fire. It was getting chilly in the cabin. With a little bit of tranquil noise, I was hoping he wouldn't wake up terrified when he saw me. I took a seat in the rocking chair next to the fire and waited him out. He slept for three hours. I thought the last two weeks were the longest of my life. I was wrong.

He was favoring his right shoulder while he slept and I could see the fresh scarring from where he had been hit in the temple. Why the rookie cop fired a second shot at him, I'll never know the answer. He took off Welsh had told me and they haven't found him yet.

Fraser was stirring awake and I could feel my heart beating wildly in my chest. He sat up and I'm sure he thought he was staring at a ghost. I wanted to run over to him, to feel his skin against mine, to feel his lips against my own. But I stayed planted in my chair. I didn't want to scare the hell out of him. I tried explaining what had happened, best I could. Then I found the courage to go over to him, to sit in front of him, to let him feel me to know that I was for real, that I wasn't dead. He leaned into my touch and the tears started to cascade down both our cheeks.

"I get to stay with you," I whispered as he pressed his forehead into mine. I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his. I kissed him softly at first, then he snuck his good arm around my neck and pulled me closer, kissing me harder, deeper.

 _Partners, friends, lovers._

We were a duet again.


End file.
